4 days until the first class.

 

————-

 

Alexon. The one who came closest to the position of the Mercenary King. Knight Crusher. Weapon Master.

 

Among those living by the sword in the present era, there was no one who didn’t know his name. He always wielded his axe on the front lines, never defeated even if he had scars.

 

Just by listing the faces of dark sorcerers whose necks were severed by his axe, you could understand why Alexon’s name resonated in the world. ‘Leather Thief,’ ‘Evil Landkeeper,’ ‘Bloodline Sword.’

 

Above all, the reason he was respected was that, even in the brutal battlefield, he steadfastly upheld his faith. He didn’t abandon his comrades, and if someone had to stay behind to buy time, he was the one who stayed. Facing danger first, he led the lacking ones.

 

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To uphold the loyalty with his mercenary band, he famously opposed one of the enemy territories of the Grand Duchy. He unconditionally protected his people.

 

That’s why.

 

Becoming Alexon’s disciple could be the best disguise.

 

————-

 

Bennet Helton. 2nd year at the Academy, main weapon is the longsword.

 

After standing out among students with outstanding physical abilities and vibrant swordsmanship, he caught Alexon’s eye and formed a loose mentorship. This relationship had been ongoing until now.

 

It was planned.

 

After closely understanding Alexon’s disposition and concluding that he enjoys advising others, Bennet intentionally approached with a sword skillfully missing a few screws. It was an effective strategy.

 

Although Alexon’s main weapon was an axe, he could handle numerous weapons. If one attempted to deceive him by clumsily swinging a sword, questions like, ‘Why are you purposefully wielding the sword oddly?’ would be raised, inviting suspicion.

 

So, Bennet did his best to skillfully master swordsmanship. He studied a madman’s swordsmanship manual and self-taught, without a dedicated swordsmanship mentor. Perhaps his efforts reached the heavens.

 

Alexon wanted to correct Bennet’s swordsmanship, which had grown in a deformed manner due to being ‘swayed by the will to survive,’ and Bennet didn’t miss the opportunity to build a connection. He swung the sword to the point of the hilt breaking. Alexon greatly appreciated his perseverance and determination.

 

Having obtained a reliable shield at the academy.

 

When his disciple, Bennet, wrote an ‘unjust stigma,’ Alexon would protect him until the truth was definitively uncovered. He would dismiss minor stigmas as mere misunderstandings.

 

Therefore, if things went wrong, even if Bennet himself were exposed as a dark sorcerer. At least, he had bought some time. It would be a significant help to the plan.

 

… The day of reckoning was approaching.

 

The infiltrating dark sorcerers at the academy would install magic runes throughout the academy by the designated date, causing disturbances from beneath, instilling fear and anxiety in the students. If their identities weren’t revealed, they would remain elusive, causing maximum loss of life when exposed.

 

The dark sorcerer leading this assault, the ‘Fear-Feeding Corpse Flower,’ would cast a grand spell — ‘Nightmare Summoning’ — for fertilization.

 

She could absorb negative emotions of humans to enhance the power of magic. The gloomier and darker the atmosphere at the academy, the exponentially stronger she would become.

 

Already, the atmosphere at the academy was far from positive.

 

Conflict between the two factions, students worn out by endless competition, assistants going out of their way for the professor’s achievements, and those living without leisure and pleasure, all accumulated stress to the point of eruption.

 

Naturally, the academy’s darkened atmosphere was due to the grand magic rune subtly affecting the entire academy, developed over 30 years through repeated infiltrations and exposures by dark sorcerers. This rune subtly stimulated the most significant emotions of living beings within its range.

 

The rumors sown skillfully by the dark sorcerers in the academy would have played a role too. Tales involving high-status individuals bribing to eliminate disliked students, ghastly stories of killing circulated by word of mouth.

 

Just a little more agitation. Just a bit more.

 

Bennet, dressed in academy uniform, strapped a longsword to his left hip. Today, there was a summons from Alexon. So, it was the path leading to the professor’s residence area. He didn’t know the nature of the business, but it was an important moment.

 

Before leaving the dormitory, Bennet looked at his reflection in the mirror. He saw dull ash-colored hair and a grotesque scar covering half of his face. A distant eye too. The scar was a memory. Every time Bennet looked at the mirror, he could vividly recall the long-buried resentment.

 

There were many misfits at the academy. However, among them, Bennet being accepted by Alexon might be due to their shared plight of being a newcomer with one missing eye. At least, that’s what he thought.

 

Building a bit more familiarity with Alexon before the day of reckoning would be beneficial.

 

“Have you come, Venet!”

 

A booming voice echoed enough to shake Venet. The place where Alexon resided was a neatly decorated, modest-sized standalone house. The furniture inside was arranged with precision, creating a tidy and organized atmosphere.

 

Judging by appearance alone, a large tent or a rustic cabin might have suited the space, emanating a primitive feel. However, Alexon was a delicate individual, contrary to his looks.

 

“Did you call, master?”

 

“Yeah, it’s nothing much. I found someone fitting to be your mentor.”

 

Venet’s guard shot up. Recognizing a different mentor suddenly—did he make a mistake? Or was Alexon intending to leave the academy?

 

“hahahahaha! Don’t make that face, Venet! In the purest sense, I found someone suitable for you to seek guidance from.”

 

Thud!

 

Alexon thumped Venet’s back with a rough hand like a sturdy pot lid. Venet thought, if he received three more hits like that, he’d be incapacitated. He seriously considered the possibility of Alexon sneakily dealing damage while he was off guard.

 

Alexon ran his rough hand through his unkempt beard—a habit when he pondered or reminisced.

 

“In the academy, there’s a rule that ‘Illusion Magic Response’ must be taught without fail. However, the previous professor left due to an unfortunate incident, so we had to find someone new.”

 

“I see.”

 

“I was thinking of sending a professor to the Violet Tower. Someone with extensive practical experience and a renowned personality like ‘Puppeteer Lorey’ was a candidate. Also, ‘Charlie of Suffering’ was notorious, but as a professor, he was unparalleled.”

 

“…”

 

“But then… the Second Prince suddenly took an interest in someone. He said, ‘In addition to ‘Illusion Magic Response,’ leave the students’ lacking practical experience to him.'”

 

“Could it be… using illusion magic for real-life training?”

 

It was no laughing matter. Attempts to integrate illusion magic into practical training had been made several times, all ending in failure. The disparity between reality and illusion was too significant, or the output was too weak, making it easily shattered.

 

Injecting a sense of reality was no easy task. The world created by three illusion magic users, squeezing out magic power, required distorting people and objects into deformed forms to reduce the size of information.

 

With goblin-like creatures resembling mashed mud, there was no way to gain real-life combat experience.

 

“Sure, I opposed it because it didn’t make sense… So, I challenged him to prove it. Just once, with a tongue-in-cheek demonstration of roasting and boiling the second prince. However, Alejandro fell victim to that narrow-minded fellow.”

 

“Alejandro, the professor…?”

 

“There’s more astonishment to come. I, surprisingly, lost a verbal duel to a sorcerer.”

 

“Uh… what?”

 

Bennett’s mind froze. It was like a priest losing a verbal spar to a passing farmer. If it were anyone else, they might have mocked him for losing a verbal duel to a sorcerer using a sword, but Alexon wasn’t someone to entertain such remarks.

 

“I often say, a weapon carries emotions. It’s not philosophical nonsense.”

 

Alexon’s insights, gained from 40 years rolling through battlefields, spoke volumes.

 

“To attack, evade, or defend? If attacking, how much damage are you willing to endure? Where do you insert your strategy? It’s the simultaneous interweaving of these judgments that defines a battlefield.”

 

It echoed aspects of chess. Judgment intertwined with action. You could swing a weapon, giving 60% weight to offense and 40% to defense, anticipate your opponent’s next move, or load strength at a specific moment.

 

That’s why, dissecting the judgments embedded in weapons revealed a person. You could deduce how they fought and behaved.

 

“So, when I say your sword dances with life, I mean it. Your sword essentially assumes ‘winning by conceding one arm while defeating the opponent.’ However, the swordsmanship displayed on that lad’s tongue…”

 

A faint trace of fear flickered in Alexon’s eyes.

 

It wasn’t the fear of ghosts. It was a terror of the inexplicable, like watching the sun rise from the west or sea water falling from the sky.

 

He reminisced.

 

The opening move was a ploy. In response, the opponent threw a move for exploration. It was then that he felt unease. A verbal duel… it wouldn’t stand if one side forced it. But that lad was calculating properly.

 

Weight, destructiveness, muscle mass, and more—considering all data except for magic and illusions felt crucial. Acknowledging the lack in his own physical abilities, deflecting an incoming axe.

 

Though they were just exchanging words, Alexon could vividly imagine a specific combat scenario. In his mind, swords and axes clashed.

 

After the three exchanges, the fourth came. That’s when I… felt something odd.

 

It was the swing.

 

It traced a path unseen in any existing martial art. After recalling the trajectory drawn by the sorcerer’s tongue, Alexon momentarily blanked out.

 

In his mind, he described it as a move roughly drawn by a sorcerer who knew nothing of martial arts.

 

However, the heart… The instincts honed on the battlefield thus far yielded an opposite answer. It’s dangerous, it said. He felt his heart constricting. For reasons unknown, inexplicable, it was a decisive move.

 

“At some point, the roles reversed.”

 

Almost imperceptibly, as if one could sense it upon closer inspection, Alecson, who had been leading the attack, found himself hastening his defenses. Clearly slow and frail, yet the sorcerer’s blade was late in manifesting but reached ahead.

 

However, instead of marveling at the precise martial art, Alecson felt a nauseating discomfort, like a bug crawling through his veins.

 

Dissection.

 

The sorcerer efficiently dissected Alecson. Mechanically, moving only as necessary, wielding without excess or deficiency, always gaining a slight advantage and moving on.

 

There was no emotion there. Whether valuing attack or defense, targeting something, everything changed according to efficiency. Alecson felt like he was fighting a monster with a hundred heads.

 

And that monster always derived the most efficient move.

 

Whittling away.

 

Little by little, carved out, disappearing.

 

“In the latter part… it was nothing short of struggling.”

 

A repeated action akin to lifting thin layers from the skin until the existence vanished. Alecson resisted while dripping with sweat. However, he couldn’t escape from the result of one layer after another being peeled away.

 

“So, I died in the 147th round.”

 

The recollection ended.

 

Alecson’s expression was distorted, and just recalling it made cold sweat trickle down. At some point, his hands were trembling while tightly clenched.

 

Venet witnessed such a sight from Alecson for the first time.

 

“…I admitted it then. If that sorcerer was born perfectly, he could have aimed for an imperial young knight someday.”

 

“……”

 

“Go and seek guidance, Venet. If I hadn’t told that tale… you might have tried to emulate the way that sorcerer fights. But I’ve chosen my path, and it’s already set. You are different, Venet… Go and learn the sorcerer’s swordsmanship.”

 

In the larger waters, learn from a better teacher. Alexon acknowledged his own shortcomings and spoke those words to his disciple, Benett. Benett gnawed on his tooth thoughtfully.

 

His mind was a mess.

 

“⋯⋯Yes, Master.”

 

Benett nodded, rising from his seat.

 

A variable.

 

A sorcerer from the Purple Tower⋯⋯. If Alexon regarded him highly, he undoubtedly became a variable in the plan. It was necessary to investigate him and inform the infiltrating dark sorcerers. If he became a problem, he might need to be eliminated first.

 

Looking at Alexon, who seemed to feel some emptiness, Benett blurted out unintentionally.

 

“But still, my Master is the only one for me.”

 

“That brat⋯⋯.”

 

Alexon’s expression brightened faintly. Benett bowed and left Alexon’s dwelling.

 

Alexon’s social standing remained unchanged. He was still a good disguise and a good shield. So, saying pleasing words to the wilted Alexon, scoring points with him, was probably necessary for the plan⋯⋯.

 

————-

 

The information Benett gathered from dark sorcerers, as well as friendly peers, was as follows:

 

Name unknown.

 

Age unknown.

 

Affiliated with the Purple Tower.

 

Apprentice of Purple Tower doctrine.

 

Backs the Second Prince.

 

Roams adorned by a well-dressed maid.

 

Involved in a power struggle between the maid and academy girls.

 

Upon entering the academy, I immediately visited the on-campus women’s underwear store.

 

Suspicious activities were observed in several places within the academy.

 

Testimonies claim that a professor ventured out of the residential area towards the south last night.

 

“⋯⋯⋯⋯.”

 

Bennett decided to write in his report that the content to be reported contained suggestive elements. If someone is so forthcoming, the theory of beauty may also be effective.

 

“Suspicious activities⋯⋯.”

 

He postponed direct contact with him for later. Bennett first intended to find out what kind of scheme the necromancer was plotting at the academy. And that would be tonight, deep into the night when everyone was asleep.

 

Bennett closed his eyes and felt the contours of his soul. Then he carefully tore off a corner of it. A momentary pain, as if his heart was being torn out, passed, leaving a vast amount of magic power in his fingertips.

 

The soul and body were closely connected. When the soul weakens, the body also suffers. Therefore, using his own soul as a material for dark magic inevitably shortened his lifespan.

 

Every time Bennett used dark magic with his own soul, he hesitated.

 

However, remembering that everything he once had was swallowed up by flames. After reminding himself that all that remained in his hands was mere ashes, he found the courage. The courage to complete the plan at any cost.

 

“Offering – ‘Trace of the Past’.”

 

An enhancement of magic that consumes the soul. The magic swirled and settled in Bennett’s eyes. The surging blood, he spat into the trash can.

 

Although about three years of lifespan had just vanished, it didn’t matter as long as the plan was completed.

 

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The magic that showed the past from a minute ago was enhanced, vividly revealing the appearance from a day ago. Bennett pursued the illusion of a hooded sorcerer and a lady in formal attire.

 

He arrived at a courtyard in the lecture facilities area.

 

He captured an image of the sorcerer burying something in the ground with a shovel. After confirming that no one was around, Bennett used magic to quickly dig up the soil.

 

“⋯⋯A sword?”

 

An ordinary-looking sword was buried there.

 

It wouldn’t have come out on a rainy night, and they wouldn’t have used a shovel to bury it. They did so to leave no trace of magic. They moved so carefully, it couldn’t be an ordinary sword.

 

Bennet had a hunch, so he cut his palm with a sword.

 

Blood dripped. And the blood-soaked artifact, the Demon Sword, awakened from its dormant state.

 

“You must be my new master? Waking me up…”

 

“『Seal of the Venomous Marsh Raven』.”

 

After confirming it was the Demon Sword, Bennet immediately sealed it and tucked it at his waist. He couldn’t afford to be caught by anyone.

 

“…Revealing the truth, deceiving the Second Prince, and possessing enough wisdom to defeat Alexon with a fake sword, hiding the Demon Sword in the Academy…”

 

…Is he another dark sorcerer?

 

To complete his plan, he considered whether it was a top-ranking dark sorcerer dispatched by the ‘Fear-Eating Corpse Flower’, or perhaps the Corpse Flower itself.

 

The dark sorcerer community was a secret organization. Bennet could only communicate with the ‘higher-ups’, and he couldn’t even tell who among the Academy staff might be disguised as a dark sorcerer. Therefore, confirming whether the Mage of Jatop was an ally was currently impossible.

 

If he’s a fellow dark sorcerer, would it be better to bury the Demon Sword again?

 

If he’s not a dark sorcerer, then there would be no harm in keeping the Demon Sword. But given that he’s not a dark sorcerer, there was no logical reason for him to bury the Demon Sword in the Academy. If taken to the church, they would handle it and even offer a reward.

 

As he pondered, he felt a presence.

 

“……”

 

There was no time to bury the sword again, nor to disguise himself. Bennet hastily left with the Demon Sword in hand.